


Book of Gold

by Lilification



Category: Library of Ruina (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Heavy Drinking, Other, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27083050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilification/pseuds/Lilification
Summary: An imitation of a human, and just how human they are.I will not apologize.
Kudos: 11





	Book of Gold

Downtime in the library was an uncommon occurrence, but not unheard of. Roland tended to use this time to catch up with the patron librarians, but for once there was little to catch up on. The rare lack of responsibility was an opportunity that shouldn’t be missed, and he had decided on an objective. The Director, Angela, had been making more attempts to be friendly with him, though her attempts were awkward. It was cute, in a way, but Roland figured she might need a little assistance. His first stop was the Floor of Arts, where Netzach would have what he needed.

Convincing Netzach to part with two cases of beer, even if it wasn’t like he couldn’t just make more of it, was a little more difficult than Roland had anticipated. The Patron of the Arts wasn’t particularly inclined to do anything to help Angela in any way, no matter how harmless it may seem, but Roland eventually convinced him this would be better for all of them and it might get her off his back for some time. Eager to get back to his own slacking, Netzach gave Roland what he wanted and sent him away.

Beer in possession, Roland returned to Angela’s desk, where she was going through books they had obtained again. While he still didn’t have the clearest idea of her goals, Roland was sure that she wouldn’t find it going through the books of mid-grade Fixers for the hundredth time.

“Angela, I’ve brought you something,” Roland called out to her, approaching the desk and placing the cases on the clearest spot he could manage. “You’ve been working too hard, why not have a drink?”

The white-haired woman scowled when she looked at the cases Roland had placed before her, the first time she’d looked up from her books in days. “Is this some kind of joke?” Angela asked, looking from the beer to Roland, who gave her a smile.

“Not at all, just a humble servant trying to bond a little with his master,” Roland said in a somewhat self-derisive tone. “They’re not poisoned either, I promise.” With that addition, Roland picked up a bottle and popped the lid off. He took a short drink, enough that he hoped would convince her, and then offered the same bottle to her.

Angela eyed the bottle, then turned her gaze to Roland as she reached for it. “Even if it were, you’re well aware that I’m not human enough for that to matter,” she told him as she brought the bottle towards her face. The opening near her lips, the smell of beer assaulted her nose and she grimaced. Hesitantly, she brought it to her lips and tilted it back, taking a drink and grimacing again.

“Vile,” she uttered after a moment, but despite her protest she took another drink while Roland opened his own. “I do not understand how you or Netzach can bear to drink this so often.”

“I think it’s less about the taste and more about the sensation that comes with it,” Roland explained as he took a drink of his own, sighing with satisfaction. “You get used to the taste too, though in our favor the stuff Netzach makes is fairly high quality. There are worse tasting beers.”

Angela gave Roland a stern look, but Roland shrugged it off. For a time, the two of them passed time discussing matters of the library and of the city. What impressed Roland was the rate at which Angela began to drink. After finishing her first, he offered her a second. He didn’t have to offer the third, she took it herself, and the fourth, the fifth… Roland had only just started his second, while she was clearing out the second pack. The look on Angela’s face softened, and a red blush spread across her cheeks. Other than that reaction, her mannerisms didn’t change terribly much, and Roland wondered if there were a limit to how “drunk” she could get as a machine imitating a human.

An interruption came in the form of mid-grade Fixers, and Angela got up to welcome them in. Roland took a moment to watch as Angela, red faced, invited them to find the book they were looking for as she did with any other guest, and return.

“I’ll leave the remainder of their reception to you,” Angela said as she returned to her seat behind her desk. Eleven empty bottles, and one still half full, crowded the books on her desk. The remaining one was Roland’s, it was only his third. Angela had gone through nine bottles on her own, and Roland briefly lamented that the effects seemed so limited.

“Well, maybe we’ll get a chance to do this again some other time,” Roland offered, but he was unable to read Angela’s expression as he left to handle the reception of their guests.

With Roland gone, Angela’s posture relaxed in her chair. Did she really need to maintain her appearance like that, she wondered. In reality, she may be a machine, but she was truly built to imitate humans. The warm, dizzying feeling of alcohol stirred in her head, despite the effort to resist it. She could not focus her gaze on her books, the words and pages felt as if they twisted and distorted as she tried to read through them. An unfamiliar pressure filled her body, and she scowled at the empty spot where Roland had sat.

Angela wasn’t completely unfamiliar with the sensation. Again, a machine built to imitate a human, she may have been able to circumvent certain needs like hunger and thirst, but since she indulged in drinking there would be consequences she had to face. Not being a common occurrence, knowing what to do was information that had been tucked too far away in her mind, covered under more important subjects.

As Angela devoted her thinking to trying to solve her predicament, the answers she came up with were vague. She felt there were parts missing, and she blamed the drunken sensation that addled her mind. The pressure however continued to grow in urgency, she didn’t have the time she’d need to let the alcoholic haze pass.

Relax. Relaxing was the first thing Angela managed to come up with to deal with the growing pressure. There was a part of the equation missing, but she decided not to concern herself with it as she relaxed her posture in her chair and closed her eyes. It felt like it actually required effort to relax her body, which felt like an oxymoron to her, but Angela took a deep breath and tried to tell herself to be less tense.

The result was almost immediate. Heat and a sudden wetness spread out beneath Angela. Ah, she thought, that was what she was missing. Something to catch the puddle that was forming beneath her. She lamented that it was too late now, but she couldn’t find it in herself to stop.

It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling Angela noted, the relief of that building pressure alone was enough to elicit a shaky, pleased sigh from her lips. The damp warmth that saturated her stockings was comforting in a way, even as it spread down her thighs and over the edges of her chair. It wouldn’t be a hassle to replace anything that she’d soaked, so she chose not to concern herself with the details. She kept her eyes closed and focused on the pleasure of relief, and on that new, growing itch.

Angela’s lack of focus, however, meant that an observer had free reign to watch as the Head Librarian drunkenly pissed herself behind her desk. There wasn’t any malice in the grin that crossed the observer’s face, only delight that the head librarian might be a deviant like they were.


End file.
